


I Would Cross Oceans For You

by lucy105blue



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Arranged mariage AU, M/M, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 07:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26349070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy105blue/pseuds/lucy105blue
Summary: Nicolo did not know what reaction his father was expecting from him, for that matter neither did he. All his life he had been taught self control; it was his only protection at this moment. A lifetime of repression made sure that he exuded no outward expression. He had always been told that he had nothing to offer to anyone so he should keep quiet and stay out of people's way. His birth had decided for him what he would be from the beginning, he would be the cast away son, he had come to terms with this a long time ago and had come to be excited about the prospect of serving god through the seeking of knowledge. It was like his father had ripped all the expectations and dreams he had for his life right out from under him. He could think of nothing worse than being a husband to a stranger.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 43
Kudos: 189





	I Would Cross Oceans For You

The streets of Genova were bustling with life as Nicolo rushed past a man loudly hawking his wares. A woman eyed him distastefully as he narrowly avoided colliding with her. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the buildings making the city seem as if it was bathed in fire, had he been a more romantic sort, and much less late, he probably would have stopped to watch the way the sunlight glinted off a passing man’s rings. Women chatted to one another from terraces above him as the smell of bread and assorted meals floated down to the streets. He continued his quick pace hoping to make it home before his own dinner was to be served.  
He had spent his day sequestered in the monastery speaking with Padre Monsueto on a few topics he had found particularly interesting. The Padre had always shown Nicolo the utmost kindness and answered every question that he had time for, this kindness most likely stemmed from the knowledge that Nicolo would soon be joining their ranks any day now.  
Nicolo came from a wealthy merchant family but with two sons already ahead of him in birth order and one even younger, there was no need to keep Nicolo around as well. Or so his father had explained many times. The back gate was mercifully unlocked and he quickly slipped inside, careful not to make too much noise aware that his presence had either been angrily missed or completely unnoticed. 

“I see the scholar has returned home in the nick of time.” A playful voice said from behind him. He spun, letting out a breath of air when he found only Teresa, a smile stretched across her face and a basket full of laundry balanced on her hip. She was a serving girl in his father's household although her most notable work was looking after Santino, Nicolo’s youngest brother.  
Nicolo always found her to be playful, smart, and with the patience of a saint. Santino had the looks of an angel with bright blonde hair, cherubic pink cheeks, and eyes bluer than the sky, but he had the temperament of the demons Padre Monsueto had warned him about. Capable of turning a single room into his own personal hell when he was denied something, which was why he was not denied things very often. (Not to mention the fact he was their mother's darling child and incapable of sin). Teresa handled him without ever missing a beat taming his fits as if they were never there to begin with.

“Was my absence missed?” he asked quietly, grateful that it had been Teresa who had discovered his entrance and who would lie for him about his whereabouts if need be.

“Signor Di Genova has been holed up in his study all day after returning home from a meeting. Antonio and Patrizio went with him to his meeting but Antonio returned to Giovanna and Patrizio went heaven knows where. Signora Di Genova is playing dress up with Santino, I fear she shall lose a finger at this rate,” she recounted, leading him further into the house and towards the small 

courtyard where the clothing wash basin was located. 

“The meeting must have been important if both Antonio and Patrizio were brought along,” Nicolo mused trying to recall hearing his brothers boast of any new business deals being made.

“Sounded important from what I could hear through the door.” Her eyes darted around the courtyard, making sure they were alone, before sharing the next bit of information. “I heard talk of nuptials.”

“Nuptials? I haven’t heard Patrizio gloating yet. I doubt Mama would allow for an agreement to be made for Santino at his age.” Teresa eyed him warily as if wanting to say something worrisome but shrugged and seemed to decide against it.

“Maybe the meeting was just the first. Dinner has yet to be served and you know how Patrizio cannot crow as he does without a glass of wine in hand,” she murmured, now more intently focused on the washing than before, “Speaking of dinner you had better get ready before Antonio and Giovanna arrive. You know how she gets when things are held up.”

“Of course. Goodbye Teresa,” Nicolo said, bowing his head and disappearing into the house and up to his bedroom. He changed into his dinner clothing taking a moment to breathe as his hands laced the pieces of his clothing as he had a thousand times.  
As his mind wandered, his eyes roved the room, finally resting on the mirror pressed into the corner. It hung above a small table and the bowl of water he used for washing up in the mornings and nights. The mirror, neither ornate nor richly decorated, was a leftover found in the attic when Santino had been born and his had been moved to the baby's room. Staring back at him were large eyes. Unlike the rest of his brothers, his eyes were a mix of green and blue often described as unnerving and difficult to meet. Beneath them were bags, deep and bruised from nights spent reading and writing by candle light. His hair much like his eyes were different from his brothers, theirs was flaxen inherited from their mother. His was a dark color that he got from his father along with the man's aquiline nose and dour personality. 

“Patrizio has just arrived,” Teresa said through the door, “Antonio and Giovanna shall be here any minute.” She continued on to his father's study to deliver a similar message.  
Nicolo quickly finished changing and headed for the dining room. He found Patrizio, Santino, and their mother already seated and speaking amongst themselves. His mother had taken her place at one end of the table with Santino on one side of her and Patrizio on her other. Santino eyed him murderously when he entered the room, Nicolo could understand why. The boy's usually curly and unruly hair had been meticulously parted down the middle and laid down flat with not a hair out of place, his usually rosy cheeks even rosier from their mother’s scrupulous fingers, and his outfit, which was almost always found covered in mud or whatever other grime and dirt he could find, was spotless. Patrizio, with his customary glass of wine in hand, smiled upon seeing him which only worked to instill a nervousness inside Nicolo. His brothers were almost never elated to see him. 

“Nicolo, how good of you to join us,” his mother said airily looking up from what she was saying to Patrizio before returning to the conversation, not waiting for a reply. He took his seat beside Santino removing the knife from beside the boy's plate and placing it a safe distance away. He shuddered to think what the child was capable of, especially with his expression as stormy as it was.  
Antonio and Giovanna were the next to arrive. Giovanna was the daughter of a Venetian merchant, and the two had been married only last spring. She was a beautiful girl, no one could deny that. With long raven hair always expertly styled, and pale unblemished skin, she was almost ghostly in appearance, cold and unbothered. Of course Antonio had expected nothing less in a wife, but she was also clever and easily able to turn an entire room against someone without it ever coming back to her. Nicolo had the sense to never covet her as an adversary. All of this was not to say that Antonio was a dumb man, quite the contrary, but if he was half as ingenious as he thought he was he would be a much richer man. He was large, though, with broad hulking shoulders that sat on more than six feet of man. He was blonde and was often compared to the sun with his loud boisterous laugh and radiant smile. 

“Antonio! Giovanna!” Their mother cried happily, rising to her feet and giving the man a kiss on each cheek as they embraced. She did the same to Giovanna before they all sat down again and the two were quickly enfolded into the conversation that seemed to be about some scandalous behavior done by some lord's daughter and some peasant boy. Nicolo didn’t have much interest in the topic, but noticed the same smile that Patrizio had given him on Antonio’s face. The queasy feeling returned tenfold wondering what the men could have to feel so excited about and with regards to him.  
The sound of his father's footsteps was their only warning of his incoming presence. He entered the room, stopping in the doorway to study the room's occupants for a moment before taking his seat at the head of the table. Nicolo had never a reason to doubt his parentage, when the face he saw in the mirror could be found staring back at him from his father.  
Dinner was soon served once everybody was seated and the queasy feeling in Nicolo’s stomach abated as he was faced with delicious smells. He was able to ignore his brother's chatter across from him. Dining quietly, he watched the rest of his family interact. Santino had dug into his food with gusto smearing most of what he did not like on his face and clothing as if to give the appearance of actually eating it. Their mother, upon noticing such behavior wiped his face with her napkin, tutting as if disappointed that the doll that she loved so dearly had dared to act upon its own accord. Nicolo could never tell if he was jealous or pleased that he was not so dearly doted upon as Santino, but more often than not he found himself feeling sorry for the boy. Neither of them had any choice in what they were born into.  
Patrizio had begun a long winded story, that sounded vaguely immoral, of his frolicking in more unsavory parts of the city. He gestured wildly a few times with the cup in his hand with the practiced ease of a drunk who had done it a thousand times. Nicolo looked up meeting Giovanna’s eyes who gave him their customary look of annoyance they often shared. He might not trust her as far as he could throw her, but he appreciated the fact they both found Patrizio to be wholly unbearable. Antonio listened with rapt attention to the tale his brother was spinning, a smile tugging at his lips with every mention of innuendo and debauchery. Nicolo had the sneaking suspicion that Antonio didn’t enjoy marriage quite as much as he had enjoyed joining Patrizio on their night time excursions.  
The sound of his father clearing his throat stopped all conversation at the table immediately. “I have an announcement to make,” he said simply, wiping his mouth with his napkin before placing it beside his plate. Nicolo could see Antonio and Patrizio sharing a look and he realized this was probably what their meeting had been about. The queasiness had returned to his stomach as he remembered what Teresa had said and the looks that his brothers had been giving him. Realization was settling like a cold wet blanket in his gut and he had the desire to crawl under the table like Santino to curl up and fall asleep. He was usually so prepared when it came to power plays like these. He had seen enough of his family's scheming to see it coming from a mile away. When Giovanna's hand was being negotiated for he had been privy to all the goings on through Teresa and regular old snooping in the study. But maybe his father had known all along what Nicolo was capable of when it came to collecting information that could be important. 

“I have been meeting with the patriarch of a powerful merchant family from a land across the sea. We have created a very mutually beneficial alliance and have decided to seal the deal with a marriage. Nicolo will be sent back with him tomorrow to the land he hails from.” His father eyed him carefully.  
Nicolo did not know what reaction his father was expecting from him, for that matter neither did he. All his life he had been taught self control; it was his only protection at this moment. A lifetime of repression made sure that he exuded no outward expression. He had always been told that he had nothing to offer to anyone so he should keep quiet and stay out of people's way. His birth had decided for him what he would be from the beginning, he would be the cast away son, he had come to terms with this a long time ago and had come to be excited about the prospect of serving god through the seeking of knowledge. It was like his father had ripped all the expectations and dreams he had for his life right out from under him. He could think of nothing worse than being a husband to a stranger. 

“Fantastic!” his mother said, with a clap of her hands interrupting the silence that had befallen the room. “All that new space will be so lovely to have.” 

“Oh don’t look like that Nico,” Antonio said, hardly able to control his laughter as he spoke. “From what I have seen of your soon to be husband he might just sell you off for a camel.”

“I think you overestimate our dear brothers' worth,” Patrizio snickered, the alcohol induced color of his cheeks brightening even more with poorly suppressed laughter. Giovanna eyed the two men disapprovingly but said nothing to reprimand them, simply returning to her dinner and ignoring Nicolo entirely. As if he was already gone.  
The rest of dinner was spent similarly, with his brothers making off color jokes at his expense and his mother making all sorts of plans for his soon to be vacated bedroom. His father and Giovanna simply ignored him as they continued enjoying their dinners as if nothing had happened. Nicolo turned his head slightly to find Santino staring at him quite intently. His eyes squinted deep in concentration. Without anybody noticing the little boy reached out and grabbed Nicolo’s hand, gripping it tightly for just a moment before withdrawing back to himself. He wondered how much the boy understood, with only eight years of experience in the world he wasn’t sure if Santino knew what was even happening or that he would most likely never see his brother again. He turned back to his meal and with a practiced hand began eating without shaking, he knew he had to keep his strength up for the days to come.  
That night a soft knock came from his door, he approached knowing the only one who would be knocking at this hour. Teresa stood behind the door, her eyes filled with unshed tears he knew she would not let fall until she knew he was prepared to see them. He closed the door behind her, as gently as she had knocked, and the two fell into each other's arms silent sobs wracking their bodies as they dropped to their knees. One of her hands was wrapped tightly around his back, the other gripped the back of his neck and his arms circled her middle as their cries slowly subsided. 

“Santino cannot seem to understand what is happening. He keeps asking when he will be able to visit his brother after he leaves,” she said softly as they moved to sit on the bed, side by side, her head resting on one of his broad shoulders. 

“I did not think it would be him who would miss me so,” he responded, his voice hoarse.

“You are one of the very few who loves him for him and not because he is pretty or because he is smart. You love him unconditionally. He can see this; he is not stupid. You do not want something from him. For all his boyish flaws he knows you are trustworthy. In this house, that is all that matters.”  
He went quiet for a moment as he mulled over what she had said. “Watch out for him would you? Do not let him turn out like the rest of them,” he asked of her.

“Of course. With you gone I am left with only him in this house. I have to make sure he is at least a little bearable,” she joked softly before they fell into a short silence.

“I must admit this was not what I was expecting when I woke this morning but I probably should have,” Nicolo said softly. He didn’t know how else to say that he felt like a grand and ridiculous fool, for thinking that his father would honor his word to send him to the monastery.

“Would it have been better if I had told you my thoughts in the courtyard? Would it have made you feel better to have an inkling of what might have been to come?” she asked, knowing how to translate what his words meant. 

“No, it’s not your fault that my father is an unyielding bastard,” he said, spitting the last word venomously. She made a soft huffing laugh in the back of her throat.

“I think this might be the first time I’ve ever heard you express yourself in anger.” She lifted her head to stare into his eyes, her expression hard and unforgiving. “I am glad, you shall need that temper in the time to come. Promise me, Nico, that you shall do everything in your power to overcome.” 

“I promise you, Teresa. Do not fret over me, have I ever needed coddling?” Nicolo asked, going for humor but settling on a tragic kind of softness. 

“You could do with some coddling, Nicolo Di Genova,” she said simply, leaving no room for argument as she stood dropping a kiss to his forehead, “Maybe it will not be as terrible as we fear. Have hope, we are never given more than we can take.”  
They shared a long and bone crushing hug not knowing if they would get another chance. He could see in her face that she refused to cry again and he kissed both her cheeks before pressing his forehead against hers. She left, and he listened as her footsteps faded away into the night. Then, he let out a shuddery breath, dropping his head into his hands. Letting himself have his moment, he soon rose from the bed and retrieved the sword that hung in the cabinet in his bedroom.  
At one point in his teenage years there had been rumors of war to be brought against the holy land. The Pope had been preparing to give a speech that was possibly meant to rile the Christians to war but had died of disease before he could deliver his speech. Everybody soon came to their senses that an unneeded war was probably not necessary. Of course Nicolo’s father had been prepared to send him and Patrizio off should a call to arms have been delivered and two long swords had been given to them. The blade had been kept in perfect condition and he had cared for it meticulously knowing it could come in handy. And how right he had been. He ran through the exercises he had been taught lunging and thrusting with the deadly blade. He fell asleep with the blade beside his bed a hair's breadth from his hand.  
He woke with the first rays of sunlight streaming in through his window falling across his face. Sitting up with a groan he remembered that he would be expected down at the docks to meet his future husband soon. He collected the clothing and belongings that he needed, which was not much, and loaded them into a rucksack. Strapping his sword to his side he then pulled the rucksack over it and stopped a moment to look back at the room he had called his own. He fought the urge to spit on the floor and headed downstairs to find Antonio waiting for him at the table.

“Ah good you are up, I worried I would have to drag you out of bed.” His brother's eyes found the sword strapped to his back and lit up with mirth, “Why Brother if I did not know any better I would say you are prepared for war. Come, come, we are expected down at the docks. We do not want your husband-to-be to leave without you.”  
Nicolo wondered as they walked if it would be worth it to punch Antonio directly in his smug mouth. The thought had admittedly crossed his mind before but his self control always got the better of him. He had always told himself the punishment would always be greater than any satisfaction could be, but at this point he sorely doubted it. It was also seeming unlikely he was ever to see his foolhardy, pompous, idiot of a brother again. His musings were cut short by the sound of his brother's voice.

“Do try to fix your face Nico. You look like a prisoner being led off to the gallows.” Antonio said before eyeing him for a moment, “On second thought I think that might just be your normal expression.” 

“Thank you for your concern Antonio, though I do believe my face should be none of your concern at this point,” he said with a steel edged tone to his voice.

“You are probably right, I do not believe your dearest can return you now. The contracts have already been signed and dealt with.” The reply was paired with a wave of his hand, gesturing down to the docks where a man stood giving orders to a crew loading boxes onto a large boat.  
As they approached the man became more clear in his vision. He was a good head taller than Nicolo and looked to be in his forties, at least twenty years older than himself. With a start he realized that he had met this man before. Nearly a month before his father had brought him to dine with their family and he had spent the night speaking with Nicolo extensively, he had thought at the time the man was simply being friendly now he realized he was so curious because he was looking for a partner. The man soon noticed their presence and beckoned them closer with a wave of his hand. 

“You have made it just in time, we shall be leaving shortly.” The man said, with only the slight hint of an accent, to the two of them before turning to face Nicolo, “My name is Ibrahim. It is good to see you again.” 

“You as well,” he lied, returning the handshake he was given and wondering what exactly his family had said about him. 

“You may board the ship we will be leaving once all the cargo has been taken care of,” Ibrahim said, seeming to pick up on his reluctance to communicate before being pulled into a conversation in Arabic with a sailor aboard the boat. 

“Well it looks like this is-” The sound of someone shouting Nicolo’s name stopped whatever Antino was about to say as they both turned to see what the commotion was. Santino, with Teresa hot on his heels, was racing down the stairs that connected the docks to the mainland. She was trying to catch the little boy, but Santino was quicker and was soon barreling into Nicolo’s legs, his face buried into the material of his pant leg as he sobbed. 

“Santino, what are you crying about?” Nicolo asked, lifting the boy into his arms, where he quickly buried his little face into his neck. 

“Teresa says you are not coming back and Patrizio says it is my fault because I am bad and that God punishes bad little boys,” Santino sobbed, barely able to get the words out. 

“Santino hush,” he whispered, doing his best to soothe his brother, “Everybody knows that Patrizio does not have the sense God gave an ass, do not listen to a word he says about anything. This is not a punishment, it’s just the way life works. Sometimes we have to let go of the people we love.”

“Then you will not love me anymore if you cannot see me,” he whimpered, never pulling away from his neck.

“Will you stop loving me when I leave?” Nicolo asked, squeezing him closer, a rush of affection filling his chest.

“No,” Santino replied lifting his tear stained face to look at him.

“Then I will not stop loving you when I leave. I will hold you in my heart over the ocean and wherever I find myself you will always be with me just as I will always be with you.” With great pain in his chest he set the boy down and Teresa quickly grabbed his arm so that he could not lunge back at him. 

“I will miss you, Teresa,” he said quietly, hugging her and nearly laughed when he felt tiny arms wrap around his legs again. 

“Remember what I told you.” She said as they let go and she worked to unlatch Santino from his shins.  
Without a word or backward glance to Antonio he boarded the boat. Nicolo watched as the sailors pulled the plank and they slowly began pulling away from the dock. He waved in return as Santino nearly knocked himself off the dock in his enthusiasm to wave. The sound of footsteps and the feeling of somebody coming to stand beside made him tense. Ibrahim stood beside him, a smile gracing his lips as he waved to the little boy as well.

“He loves you a lot. He seems very sweet,” the older man said.

“Little boys are so full of enthusiasm...Especially when they set fire to our mother's drapes,” Nicolo said with a shrug. This made the other man laugh, head thrown back and from deep in his belly. The noise surprised him and he eyed the man beside him who gave him a bright smile in return. 

“Come let us head to my cabin and you can tell me more about yourself.” Ibrahim walked towards the stairs that led up to a door. Rolling his shoulders, Nicolo was reminded of the comforting weight of his weapon strapped to his back and followed.  
The cabin was richly decorated with mahogany tables and chairs set in the middle of the room covered in maps and other assorted papers. A large shelf built into the wall held books that caught Nicolo’s attention. He noticed a beautiful rug unfurled in the corner as well that he could not find a purpose for. Two beds were built, one on each side of the room and a few candelabras were strewn around the room. Large windows against the back wall let in sunlight and he could see the disappearing coastline as the ship moved steadily in the other direction. He silently sat in one of the chairs dropping the sword and rucksack beside him, careful to make sure it was within grabbing distance. 

“You do not trust me,” Ibrahim stated, nodding towards the sword as he sat down across the table from him. 

“I…” Nicolo thought for a moment before conceding,“I do not know you.” 

“That is fair. I think your father and brothers might have misled me in regards to how much you knew of our dealings.” He was taken aback by the man's honesty and as well as that his family had so blatantly lied.

“I was unaware till last night of my upcoming marriage.” Nicolo said his expression blank as he stared out the window behind the other man's head.

“I could turn the boat around and return you to your family.” The laugh that ripped from the younger man's mouth was unpleasant and sad.

“I am obviously not wanted in my father's household. I would not have the money to make the donation to the monastery to secure a place either. I am truly on my own,” he said the last part mostly to himself as the full weight of what was happening settled on his shoulders. He hadn’t had the opportunity to really grasp the situation he was facing. Everything had been so suddenly flung upon him it seemed even more daunting now that he seemed to have a choice in the matter. 

“Well if you do not want to return home you do not have to be on your own Nicolo there is still a place for you in my family.” 

“As your husband,” Nicolo finished, his eyes never meeting Ibrahims. 

“What?” Ibrahim asked.

“I was told I was to be wed to you to seal your trade alliance with my family.” He explained now fully watching the man's face which seemed to go from puzzled to angry in a moment.

“No, your father agreed that the marriage was to be between you and my son, not you and me. Why would they tell you differently?” The last question more to himself than to Nicolo.

“Probably to scare me, who's to say.” He shrugged, rubbing his face, not noticing Ibrahim’s horrified expression.

“Does your family truly dislike you so much that they would cause you such unnecessary worry and pain?” 

“I couldn’t say. I am the third son, an unnecessary mouth to feed and not as beloved as Santino, the little boy you saw on the docks. My father probably just saw you as the perfect way to unload me while also gaining a financial foothold in your lands. And of course he didn’t want to lose Patrizio,” Nicolo explained. A brief smile spread across his counterpart's face.

“If we are both being honest I told your father specifically that I did not want Patrizio. I told him I thought their differences would be too great. Which was not exactly a lie. I know my son, and a drunkard with poor self restraint and not much going on between his ears is not someone I would force upon my boy. When I met you though I knew that you would be perfect.” Upon hearing this a wide and true grin spread across Nicolo’s face. It wasn’t often he heard someone speak so candidly about his brother.

“I think I could make it work, being a part of your family,” he said after a pause.

“Well in that case welcome Nicolo Di Genova to the Al Kaysani family,” Ibrahim said.

“And if your son does not like me?” Nicolo asked knowing that he was not what most would look for in a spouse.

“I do not think that will be an issue,” The older man replied, giving him a small secretive sort of smile.  
…………………  
The voyage to Ibrahim’s homeland took nearly a month but Nicolo could not find it in him to care. He was surrounded by things to do constantly. He decided immediately that he would learn Arabic, since everyone around him spoke it and he was never one to deny himself a new skill if he had a willing teacher. Ibrahim would stay up at night guiding him through readings in the books on the bookshelf and sometimes would only speak to Nicolo in Arabic, smiling encouragingly when Nicolo stumbled his way through responses. Ibrahim also refused to translate some of the dirtier things the sailors enjoyed joking about. But that didn’t stop them from teaching Nicolo all of the curse words they could think of.  
When he was not learning or helping the sailors keep the ship in shape, he was playing chess, a game that Ibrahim also taught him, and discussing philosophy and religion with Ibrahim. The older man taught him about the five daily prayers, Halal, and the different important dates and holidays of Islam. He could not think of a time where he had more fun. It was almost intoxicating, the joy he felt each day.  
Of course sometimes he could not help but look in the direction of home and wonder about his family. If Santino had successfully hidden a rat in their mothers drawers or if Teresa had confiscated it once again. He wondered if Teresa had found the books he had left for her on his desk, they had been holding nightly tutoring sessions since she had never been taught to read. She had of course taken to reading quickly and they quoted book passages at one another when they passed each other in the halls.  
Ibrahim would recognize these moods, though, and begin telling stories of home. He had five children, three girls and two boys and, as he put it, the most beautiful wife in the city—quite possibly the whole world—whose name was Fatima. The youngest two were twins, a boy named Anwar and a girl named Zahra. The two oldest were girls named Karima and Maha. Karima was married to a man named Adham, they lived a few doors down from the rest of the family and were expecting a baby soon. Yusuf was in the middle and no matter what Nicolo tried Ibrhaim would not tell any stories about his fiancé. 

“I do not want to put ideas into your head about my Yusuf and give you the completely wrong impression of him. What if I accidentally made you dislike him without you ever meeting him,” Ibrahim said as they played chess on the fourth day of their journey. Ibrahim kept his Arabic slow as to allow Nicolo to keep up, oftentimes stopping to explain a word or bit of grammar. 

“I think you are just enjoying holding this over me. I think you are having fun torturing me,” Nicolo joked back, straight faced, in a mix of Italian and Arabic. He stole his opponent’s queen and made Ibrahim let out an appreciative hum. He had taken to chess much quicker than he had to Arabic, although Ibrahim had reminded him that one does not learn a language in a day no matter how hard they study. 

“Maybe,”The older man said, his smile mischievous. 

“At least tell me this,” He said, his voice growing serious, “Does he know I am coming?” 

“Yes. He has been looking to settle down for a while now and has found his own searching to be fruitless. He told me if I could make a connection that I thought he could appreciate that I should  
make it. When your father told me about you I thought you sounded perfect. I sent him a letter a month before we left.” 

“And now that you have actually met me?” Nicolo asked avoiding the man's eyes in case he saw something he could not handle.

“I think he will quite enjoy playing chess with you,” Ibrahim said laughing when Nicolo threw a pawn at him.  
On the twenty-seventh day at sea he was pulled from his studies by the sound of shouting on the deck. He jumped up and grabbed his sword strapping it to his side, Ibrahim had warned him pirate attacks were not common in this area but did happen from time to time and to be prepped to use that sword of his. Once he blinked the sunshine out of his eyes he saw what had caused the yelling.  
Their ship was fast approaching a port connected to a sprawling city, the buildings were all a similar shade of beige but he could see brightly colored specks, that he recognized faintly as people, moving about on the docks. He quickly set to work helping the sailors prepare for docking, racing about wherever he was needed and lending an extra pair of hands. They worked in perfect tandem, Nicolo falling in sync, his Arabic, though not perfect, was strong enough by this point and he could keep up with those around him as they called orders to one another. Soon the ship was safely docked and the sailors set to work unloading the newly acquired cargo, before he could begin helping them unload a voice called up to him from the dock. 

“Nicolo I am not paying you to be a sailor!” Ibrahim called with a laugh, “Come get your things and come down here.”  
Nicolo waved down to show he had heard the man and headed into the cabin to grab his rucksack lying at the foot of his bed. Heading back onto the deck he was stopped by a few sailors who gave him quick goodbyes and large smiles. It made him laugh to think that he had made so many friends on a journey that he had at first thought would be the end of his happiness. Finally managing to exit the ship, he found Ibrahim deep in conversation with a young woman who he assumed to be Ibrahim's daughter from their very similar faces.

“Maha meet Nicolo, Nicolo this is my daughter Maha,” Ibrahim said when he noticed the younger man approaching.

“It’s good to meet you. Your father has told me a lot about you,” Nicolo said bowing his head to her in greeting. 

“Oh he’s pretty and polite,” Maha laughed.

“Don’t tease the man, Maha. I’ve only just managed to bring him out of his shell,” Ibrahim said not trying to hide his laugh at Nicolo’s expression. 

“Are you sure you cannot pay me to be a sailor?” he asked, sighing with his customary sarcasm making Ibrahim smile wider.

“We would take him in a second boss,” one of the sailors said patting Nicolo on the shoulder as they passed.

“Mutiny,” Ibrahim replied, mock anger tinging his voice.

“You must be quite impressive to have won everybody over in only a month,” Maha cut in. He could tell from her voice that he was being tested, maybe to see if he was some raging narcissist. 

“They are easily impressed.” He shrugged, smiling. 

“He undersells himself,” Ibrahim stated, “Is dinner being prepared?”

“No. Everybody was out of the house when I left, you know how Mama hates cooking without company.” They began the trek from the dock and into the city, “You wait and see Nicolo, they shall be disgustingly romantic upon reuniting.”

“See how she hurts her Baba. I care for her from a little itty bitty baby and she wounds me so.” The man faked sadness incredibly well, with a teary looking expression, but eventually broke into laughter when his daughter rolled her eyes at him.  
The sights and smells of the city were intoxicating, the hustle and bustle was no different from Genova but everything just seemed so different. Vendors selling rich smelling foods nearly made him stop just so he could study them up close. Arabic was being spoken so quickly around him that he didn’t even try to listen in on the different conversations of strangers. 

“You come from a city do you not?” Maha asked, obviously amused by his wandering eyes. 

“Yes, but no city is the same, you know? It is like being transported into some storybook,” he replied jumping to avoid crushing a gaggle of racing children. Ibrahim threw some scolding words at their retreating backs but they paid him no mind.

“Watch, the magic will have faded within the week.” She hummed as they arrived in front of a metal gate, walked through a pretty little garden and traversed through the front door of a quaint two story house, “Mama! I have a surprise for you.” 

“Maha must you shout so you know...” An older woman who he knew to be Fatima stopped in the middle of the kitchen freezing mid sentence when she took everybody in. Ibrahim and Fatima immediately flung their arms around each other, laughing giddly as Ibrahim spoke sweet nothings onto the top of her head.

“It’s only been a few months and yet they act like it’s been years.” Maha murmured leaning over to Nicolo. But, he could see the smile tugging at her mouth. He was enthralled at such open displays of affection. 

“My dearest, meet Nicolo,” Ibrahim said once they finally separated, leading her over to stand in front of him. 

“Oh it’s lovely to have you, dear. You must excuse whatever my husband told you of us, he exaggerates greatly.” She laughed cheerfully, seeming to only have eyes for her newly returned husband.

“I’m sure there were no exaggerations, all he could sing was you and your family’s praises.”

“He is lovely, my Ibrahim,” Fatima laughed, “Your accent is beautiful. Did you know Arabic before the engagement?”

“Oh no, I picked some up while aboard the boat, but I still have much to learn of course,” Nicolo explained. 

“How very clever you must be then to learn so quickly.” She smiled watching him look at his feet, then spoke a few words to Ibrahim that were too quick for him to translate. The older man laughed and shook his head in reply when Nicolo gave him a questioning look. Fatima took his belongings and disappeared out of the room but was back only a moment later, dropping a kiss to her husband's cheek when she passed him. 

“Where are my little ones? They are usually the first to greet me when I arrive.” Ibrahim asked ushering Nicolo into a seat at the large kitchen table before taking his own. Maha took one as well only when Fatima waved her away from helping with the preparations for dinner. In the windowsill he could see a black cat lying in the sunlight napping lazily only lifting its head for a moment to check the room's occupants before returning to its nap.

“I told Yusuf to take them with him when he went to the market to buy fish for dinner. They are practically jumping off the walls waiting for your return.” 

“I believe my youngest are close in age to your little brother. How old was he again?” he asked Nicolo.

“He’s eight,” Nicolo reminded watching Fatima tend to the fire, chop vegetables and grab little jars of spices in preparation. 

“Ah yes my babies are only a year older.” 

“And he spoils them rotten,” Maha said snickering at her father's offended look.

“Do not pretend like I did not treat you and the others like my most precious treasures, Maha.” 

“By the time they are ten we will be having to roll them down the streets with all the sweets you fill them with,” Fatima interjected causing the two women to laugh and Nicolo to hide a smile behind his hands. 

“Oh Nicolo you have turned against me already,” Ibrahim groaned wagging a finger at the other man, “I thought it was to be me and you against these betrayers.”

Twin shrieks filled the room, interrupting whatever reply Nicolo was preparing to give as two small running bodies smashed into Ibrahim full force, nearly knocking the man from his chair.. 

“Baba!” The children shouted as they wrestled each other to climb into his lap before giving up as their father pulled them to his chest in a giant hug.

“Are you harassing our poor father again, Maha?” A mirth filled voice asked, Maha and Nicolo turned from the father child reunion. Standing in the doorway, Nicolo had to admit, was the most beautiful man that he had ever seen. He looked to be only one or two years older than himself and an inch or two taller as well, his dark curls were pushed back from his forehead as if he had been running his hand through them, and a gorgeous toothy smile decorated his face beneath. His deep brown eyes were focused on Maha and he wasn’t sure if he could handle the full weight of the eyes upon him. He had the horrible thought that he might melt into the floor. Nicolo felt very ill prepared for the situation he was in, he turned his head back to face Ibrahim and the younger ones to avoid staring at the other man.

“Yusuf, how could you ever imply something like that,” Maha said, leaning up to kiss his cheek when he leaned down to place the fish on the table for his mother. So this was his fiancé. Nicolo did not know if it was better or worse that he found the man to be difficult to tear his eyes from when he looked at him.

“Yusuf this is Nicolo, Nicolo this is Yusuf,” Maha said, forcing Nicolo to look back at the two of them. A large mischievous smile graced her lips as she looked between them. Yusuf quickly put his hand out to shake before seeming to remember he was just holding a fish and laughed then opened his mouth to say something. 

“You look odd. Are you sick?” The little girl, who he thought might have been named Zahra, interrupted whatever Yusuf was about to say. Nicolo turned to find her standing beside him; she was the perfect height to meet his eyes. 

“Zahra!” Fatima and Yusuf reprimanded while Ibrahimand Maha snickered at what was probably his very panicked expression. 

“Oh no I am not sick I just come from somewhere different,” Nicolo explained stumbling over his words a little in his nervousness, everyone's eyes were on him and it made him want to crawl out of his skin. 

“Do they look like you where you come from?” The little boy who he knew to be Arwan, asked from Ibrahim’s lap.

“Yes, just like you look like your family, I look like mine,” he explained simply. 

“I’ve never seen somebody with eyes the color of the ocean before,” Zahra said.

“Okay, okay you can question him more later. Would you two like to see what I’ve brought?” Ibrahim asked, nearly sending the two through the roof in their excitement. The first thing he pulled out of the little bag he had brought from them was a small wooden horse with four wheels for feet which he handed to Zhara, who promptly squealed and pushed the horse through the kitchen on its wheels. For Arwan he pulled out six little soldier figures holding shields and swords. 

“Take your toys to the other room. I will not be tripping on those in here do you hear me?” Fatima said shooing the kids out of the room. 

“When’s Karima getting here?” Ibrahim asked as soon as the noise subsided. 

“Within the hour she’s waiting for Adham to close the shop so he can walk her here. She says she does not want to be walking anywhere by herself without someone with her since she is so far along.” Maha explained.

“That is good. I do not want my grandbaby brought into this world in a dirty alley,” Ibrahim said with a curt nod. 

“Should I be offended that he thinks I am spending all my time in dirty alleys,” a soft voice called. The voice belonged to a very heavily pregnant woman who was being helped up the two front steps by a man.

“Karima I do wish you would just let us have dinner at your house.” Fatima fretted over the woman. Nicolo quickly stood and offered his chair since it was the closest to the door to Karima who smiled brightly at him and sat down with a large exhale. The man who Nicolo assumed was her husband Adham took the chair beside her, while Nicolo took the chair on the other side of the table beside Maha.

“Mama I will continue to walk until I am physically unable to, or until Adham finally faints with too much worry. I know my limits,” she said, soothing the older woman and then turning to the rest of the table, “Now introduce me to our new friend.” 

“This is Nicolo, Yusuf's fiancé” Maha smiled looking between the two men conspiratorially.

“Maha,” Yusuf warned. 

“And where did my father manage to find you, Nicolo?” Karima asked, adjusting herself in her seat to find a comfortable position and ignoring her siblings in favor of looking at Nicolo.

“Genova, Italy,” he replied watching her face light up.

“Baba taught me Italian but I’ve never gotten the chance to use it with a real Italian,” she said switching to his mother tongue excitedly.

“You are very good. Ibrahim is a fantastic teacher. He’s the one who has begun to teach me Arabic,” Nicolo replied, happy to get to speak his own language again..

“Of course she is fantastic at Italian, she was the only one who took a real interest in learning and is a great student,” Ibrahim said with a proud smile.

“Arabic please,” Fatima asked, handing plates out to everyone, “You two know the rules: no foreign languages at the dinner table.”  
Nicolo opened his mouth to ask what the rules were against speaking Italian but was stopped before he could ask with a wave of Fatima’s hand.

“Oh not you Nicolo. Those two,” She said pointing to Karima and Ibrahim, “use Italian to annoy the others, and it has led to many fights. I have simply banned its use to save myself the headache at the dinner table. I know you wouldn’t cause me any headaches and will tell me if they say anything too ridiculous.”

“The cruelty, my heart,” Ibrahim said, pressing his hand to his chest.

“This is obvious favoritism, Mama,” Karima said with a giggle eliciting only an eye roll from her mother.  
Food was quickly served and Zahra and Arwan were brought back into the room to eat. Silence fell over the dinner table for a bit as everybody dug in and Nicolo for a moment was reminded of home, it almost made him nauseous. The sound of Adham asking Yusuf how the market had been, soon had the whole table in a discussion about a fruit vendor they all disliked on some principle or another. Nicolo wasn’t totally sure if he had translated correctly but he was enjoying the passion with which Yusuf and Maha called the man steadily more ridiculous fruit based insults.  
He was still having issues looking at Yusuf without fearing that the other man could somehow tell what he was thinking. As the fruit based insults continued he was having trouble saying he didn’t find the man stomach hurting funny as well. He settled for looking at him out of the corner of his eye, watching the way he teased Zahra good naturedly and eyeing his sister worriedly at every minor adjustment she made in her chair even when she told him to stop looking at her as if she was going to pop at any moment. Nicolo nearly jumped from his chair when Yusuf caught him staring and after a second winked at him. Thankfully nobody else seemed to catch the interaction or the way he was sure his ears turned pink.  
Soon dinner was done and Adham began the treacherous task of trying to convince Karima to use his arm to lean on as she walked. She of course was adamant that she was perfectly capable of walking two houses down the road. Nicolo didn't say anything when he could see her out the window grasp his forearm and lean against him to continue the walk. He watched in fascination as Adham said nothing and simply leaned down and kissed the top of his wife's head as they continued down the street. 

“They've been in love since they were teenagers, everyone knew they were going to get married. You should have seen Adham when he tried asking our father for her hand, I thought he was going to throw up, he was so nervous,” Yusuf said from behind him. He realized that everyone had left the kitchen at some point while he looked out the window. 

“Well he must have managed to ask in the end,” Nicolo said nodding out the window.

“Oh, just barely. Baba had to practically pull the words out of him but he went puffing his chest all over town as if he had done it all himself,” Yusuf said laughing at the memory before eyeing Nicolo up and down, “Are you just naturally quiet or are you nervous?” 

“A little bit of both. Are you not nervous?” He cringed internally, of course Yusuf wasn’t nervous. He had no idea how much of a mess his soon-to-be spouse was.

“A little bit, but, as Maha so kindly put,” He rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping off the word kindly, “we are engaged. I’m just nervous about making sure you don’t end up running for the hills.” 

“Is that a large worry for you?” Nicolo’s eyebrows rose in question, wondering why he would be worried.

“Well it wasn’t, until I met you and saw how pretty you are.” Yusuf’s smile brightened even more when Nicolo turned a bright shade of red, “Zahra was right you know.”

“What that I’m odd looking?” Nicolo asked looking over the other man's shoulder where he could hear the sound of the little girl playing with her new toy.

“No that your eyes are the shade of the ocean.” The other man said shifting his head slightly so he could meet Nicolo’s eyes.

“You are enjoying tormenting me aren’t you.” He accused rubbing his face with a laugh before smiling warmly at the other man.

“Torment? No I just like the way you look when you blush.” Nicolo wished desperately that he could read the other man's mind because his own was currently a mess.  
Before he could reply he heard his name being called from the living room where the rest of the family had gathered. Nicolo quickly stepped into the other room to find Ibrahim standing in the doorway to a hallway. The man quickly grabbed his shoulder and steered him down the hall and past a flight of stairs to a door at the very end of the hall. 

“This was Karima’s room before she was married but now we use it as a guest bedroom and now it shall be yours for the time being.” Ibrahim explained leading him inside and closing the door behind himself.

“For the time being?” Nicolo asked, surveying the room. It was a little bigger than the one he had left behind in Genova with pretty yellow curtains, a nice sized bed pressed against one wall with a cabinet to keep things inside and a desk in another corner. He found his rucksack and sword laid out on the bed. 

“When you and Yusuf are married you shall move into your own home,” He explained an inquisitive glint in his eyes before asking, “While we’re on the topic of Yusuf. What do you think?” 

“I think you were right.” Nicolo said, excited to serve a little justice, “He will be fun to play chess with.” 

“Touché.” Ibrahim said with a laugh, but seemed to understand that Nicolo was happy so far with his fiancé,“If you want you can go to sleep. I know you’ve had a long day and answering the twins questions might be a little too tiresome.” 

“Thank you. It’s been an exciting day and I think I’m about to fall asleep on my feet.” He said after thinking for a moment. 

“You are happy though?” He asked, his voice becoming a little softer.

“Yes I think I am.” 

“Good that is all I can ask. Good night.” Before the younger man could react Ibrahim was pulling him into a hug. Nicolo stiffened for a moment not expecting the closeness before returning the hug.  
Ibrhaim pulled away with a smile and wished him another goodnight then left him to himself. He took a moment to rest his back against the door letting out a breath that he felt like he had been holding since he got on the boat a month ago. The sound of Fatima announcing bedtime was quickly followed by the sound of two little groans echoing down the hallway, he laughed softly. How much things could change in just a month, with just one little decision. He moved his things off his bed and quickly fell into a dreamless sleep.  
…………………...  
Yusuf was not actually expecting much when he agreed to allow his father to arrange a match for him. The man was a perfectionist when it came to his children, so he didn’t actually think he would find anybody while in Genova. When the letter arrived from his father, he was a little surprised. He usually only sent family letters telling all of them how he was doing with a few private pages for their mother. To receive a letter independently meant that there was news specifically for him that was meant for his eyes only. Yusuf quickly did the math in his head, his father should have reached port only a few days ago. He opened the letter at his desk, a little apprehensive, wondering what it could be about.  
Inside he learned of the Di Genovas, a wealthy merchant family with four sons. His father explained that their father, Signor Di Genova, was interested in a trade agreement and had offered him one of his sons as a way to seal the deal. The one that had been originally offered had been a drunk named Patrizio who seemed as sleazy as he was unintelligent and he had immediately refused the offer. Yusuf smiled as he read, wondering if he was just being told this because his father had been so offended.  
Of course, the letter continued, Signor Di Genova offered another son, named Nicolo, this one he was told was very different from Patrizio. This son was a much more reserved type preferring learning and knowledge to pursuits like Patrizio’s. Another son, this one named Antonio, and his wife, Giovanna, were brought around to dinner the next evening and told him more about this Nicolo. Just as Signor Di Genova had said, they attested to their brother being a strong, intelligent, and kind person. He then went on to talk in detail about the dinner he had with the family and how smart and kind the man actually seemed. Yusuf was impressed, he was curious and excited about this Nicolo Di Genova and also trusted his father, if he thought the two would be good together then he wanted to see. He prepared a letter expressing his interest in the match and had it sent off the next morning.  
Nearly two months went by and the excitement and nervousness had been delegated to the back of his mind. With all manor of other business to handle in his father's absence, he did not have the time to sit around wondering about his fiancé. Although at night, when he was alone with his thoughts and he had the time to dwell on them, he would wonder what this man looked like, if he liked poetry and art like Yusuf did, if he would enjoy wandering the city streets with him, if he would love his mother's cooking and how they all gathered at the table as if they were still children living under the same room. He wondered if Nicolo was staying awake at night, thinking about him.  
The afternoon air was warm as he walked down the street, keeping a careful eye on Zahra to make sure she did not go running after some of the neighbor children who were playing in the street. Arwan simply held onto Yusuf's hand as they walked home and in his other hand was the fish he had purchased for their dinner. A few familiar faces waved as they walked down their street, all of which Zahra enthusiastically returned and Yusuf smiled at the little girl's antics.  
The day had been a good one, he had spent the day helping Adham at the shop selling different spices and other assorted goods mostly it was Karima who worked in the shop with her husband, but since she became pregnant she had compromised with Adham to stay home and rest in exchange for not being nagged about her other activities. The deal worked relatively well, even though Adham was largely incapable of nagging about them anyway.  
As Yusuf and his siblings approached the house he could hear the sound of voices floating faintly from the kitchen and he figured Maha had returned from her daily excursion to the docks. He was pretty sure she had a crush on one of the dockhands. She was not one you could tease about crushes, though, because she would then begin threatening bodily harm.

“Oh Nicolo you have turned against me already, I thought it was to be me and you against these betrayers.” The familiar voice of his father hit his ears making him smile from ear to ear before he realized what he had said. Nicolo was in that kitchen. He had no time to come up with a strategy because the twins had also heard the voice and were crashing through the gate and front door all while screaming with excitement. He quickly followed after the tiny terrors into the kitchen. 

“Are you harassing our poor father again Maha?” Yusuf asked, making sure he did not immediately begin staring at the other figure at the table like some sort of creep. He leaned down to accept a kiss on the cheek from Maha as she proclaimed her innocence and did not miss the little smirk on her face before introducing him to Nicolo.

The introduction made the other man turn his face to look at them and Yusuf nearly swore. He knew he was not a superficial man but this man made him wonder if all the beauty of others had simply been a test run for him so that Yusuf would not simply combust when he saw Nicolo for the first time. Nicolo’s jawline looked as if it had been used to cut glass at some point, he wondered if it would draw blood from his lips if he were to litter kisses across it. The blood spilled would be worth it, he thought. Brown hair streaked with blonde, hung shaggy enough to cover his forehead but not so long that it would impair his vision and he itched to run his fingers through it, tug on it, and maybe see if he enjoyed it.  
He realized with a start that he was staring and put his hand out to shake. Then remembered that he was just holding a dead fish in and laughed with a shrug as he tried to play it off as he withdrew the hand back to his side. And of course when he went to actually say something to him, Zahra of course had to tell Nicolo that he was odd looking, which he had to disagree with but she was nine and apparently had bad taste. Yusuf did enjoy the panicked expression on his face for a moment before explaining to the little girl that he was not in fact sickly. He also could not help a warm feeling that spread through his chest when he watched the other man immediately move to give up his chair to his sister, kindness was an incredibly sexy trait in his eyes, sue him.  
And, later, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen Yusuf watched as Nicolo seemed transfixed by Karima and Adham walking down the road together as if he had never seen a young couple in love. Not being able to pass up the opportunity to embarrass Adham he told the Italian about his failed attempt at asking to be married. By the time they were interrupted, he had managed to make Nicolo blush nearly three times and he was absolutely stunned that this beautiful man could think he was odd looking. Did they not own mirrors in Genova? 

“Yusuf.” His father beckoned him up the stairs when he returned from his chat with Nicolo. He was led into his own bedroom and the door was closed behind him,“What do you think?” 

“I think I might be in love already.” The sound of his father laughing rattled around the room. 

“I am glad. I am quite fond of the man I would hate to have to pay him to be a sailor when I could have him as a son.” The older man's eyes were soft when he spoke of Nicolo and he wondered just how special he was if his father liked him this much. He sighed and rubbed his face for a moment, “I am worried that you might be inadvertently harsh with him.”

“Harsh?” Yusuf asked aghast, “I would not be cruel to him.” 

“I know you would never be cruel my boy. Nicolo’s family misled me and him before he began the voyage here. He was not told of the engagement until the night before we were to set sail and they led him to believe that he was engaged to me. I fear what else they have done or said to him. He is no child but I ask that you understand why he might behave the way he does.” 

“He wasn’t told until the night before? To you?” Yusuf couldn’t even get all the words out to his question. He was horrified he had flirted in the kitchen, made the other man's cheeks burn, what if it had not been because he enjoyed it but because he was ashamed, terrified even. He had thought the laughter was a good sign that he was enjoying it like Yusuf was. “Oh, I have made a cruel fool of myself.”

“Yusuf, he is not a child. He looked prepared to stab me aboard that boat need be, do not invalidate his or your feelings because of this information. I am telling you so some of the things he says make sense. He seems just as much of a smitten fool as you do.”  
Hearing that made him feel considerably better as he thought back over their interactions again. He had caught Nicolo eyeing him at dinner, he knew what interest looked like in someone's eyes that’s why he had winked and he had smiled and laughed at Yusuf when he had flirted in the kitchen. His father was right that Nicolo wasn’t someone who needed to be handled like they would break at any moment, he had admitted it himself in the kitchen that he was a quiet man. Unlike Yusuf he seemed a much more introspective type, somebody who reacted in their own head before they allowed their body to give away their emotions. He had a quiet strength about him that attracted Yusuf to him and he was desperate to learn more about him.

“It’s good to be home.” His father hugged him tightly, “Goodnight.”

“It is good to have you back. Sleep well Baba.” Yusuf said softly, his face buried in the other man's shoulder before they separated. 

That night his dreams were filled with the ocean and eyes the same color.


End file.
